Wintersalad │ Disclaimer: I do not own "Prince of Tennis" or any referenced translations. │ Written: 11/24/10 │ Posted: 11/24/10 │ Last Edited: 05/05/11
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"What do you think you're looking at, Chibisuke?"
It was raining that day.
He was scrawled out across the ground, shivering. She stood over his prone form, mesmerized by the mixture of colors, watching as spindling fingers uncurled. As if to reach for her. As if to grasp her.
It wasn't until after that she learned that there was a tornado alert.
She knew blood. She knew rain. She knew dirt, tears, mud, spit and every combination in between. They lived it everyday. But never like this. Never had her moniker sounded so foul coming from between his lips.
They should have just stayed home.
His blazing golden eyes burned through her. But before she could react, large hands covered her eyes and pulled at her. Pulled her backwards and away. Backwards and away from him, but it still wasn't fast enough. Through the cracks of the closing fingers, she saw her fallen angel miraculously pull his battered body from the soiled floor and launch towards her with unbelievable agility. A miracle fueled by despair and vengeance.
He should have never been broken.
"Don't you look down on me!"
She should have never allowed him to fall apart.
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"Ryo-nii*…"
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Genius 011: Defeat
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"Alright people, that's it for today! First-years are to stay behind and clean up! Everyone else is dismissed!"
Two consecutive claps signaled the mass dispersion from the courts. The crowd flowed away from where Ryoma still stood center, a growing wave of open space. Resisting the current, Fuji stood firm and stayed to observe the first-year's shaken form.
Tezuka had already left.
He watched the child hastily retrieve a still outstretched hand and hide trembling fingers. The remaining first-years had finally moved to help clean up and the recent celebrity somehow imitated a smirk as they all moved towards the supplies. Taking in the proceedings through lidded eyes, there was no mistake about the sharpness in the regular's continued gaze. The first-year, however, was too distracted to notice.
Well, the third-year smiled secretively, we all have our own secrets to keep.
Turning, Fuji left the first-years to their task and walked towards a shouting Eiji. He'll forgive the slight this time. It was a big match for both the underclassmen it seemed. That and it just wasn't fun to dissect a specimen when their attention wasn't on you.
Grabbing a broom, Ryoma immersed herself in sweeping up the grounds.
"I can't believe Echizen defeated Kaido-sempai," Horio commented as he grabbed the remaining broom, eyeing the boy dragging his own across the courts distractedly. His first impression of the kid wasn't at all that remarkable. And it still wasn't, when Echizen wasn't with a racket in his hands or participating in English class. He'd been curious when he first called out to the boy that day. How could someone who looked so lost, so indifferent, to the world around him be carrying a tennis bag? How did such a lazy, unimpressive person hide such explosive tennis-play within himself?
It just didn't seem fair.
"Yeah, he defeated a regular," Kachiro hummed beneath a smile.
"I've always believed that Echizen would win," Katsuo answered while rolling up his end of the net, meeting Kachiro in the center. "I'm sure if it's Echizen, he'll have no problem becoming a regular."
Horio frowned. "But after this, there's still Inui-sempai. Even if it's Echizen, he's a third-year an-"
"He will win!"
Taken aback, Horio blinked at the two freshmen who had rapidly become staunch supporters of the laid-back first-year in question. Somewhat ashamed, the boy averted his eyes from their glares and replied, "Don't get so excited. I want Echizen to win as well, it's just that…"
Sighing, Ryoma stopped her broom at their feet. Lifting her head up so that her cap didn't block her view of the three, she intoned, "It doesn't matter who wins or loses. Get out of my way. If you're done putting the stuff away, grab one of the smaller brooms and help me finish sweeping."
Flushing upon realizing that Echizen had already finished sweeping most of the court while they were still standing still in the same spot, Katsuo immediately ushered everyone out of Echizen's way and placed the rolled-up net away. Grabbing two of the smaller brooms, he ran back and handed one to Kachiro. How embarrassing!
Kachiro, however, appeared too enthusiastic about his new idol's win to realize the same humiliation. Unabashed, he turned bright eyes towards the boy who resumed his sweeping and asked, "Ryoma-kun! Let's me ask you, have you undergone rigorous training since you were little? You're strong! You've probably never lost right?"
Katsuo meekly swept his immediate area in a small circle, keeping one ear open for Echizen's reply. Horio merely stood still with broom in hand, waiting for an answer.
There was a break in Ryoma's stride at the sudden inquiry. A keen silence held the air before she resumed her task, filling the air with the soft, lonely scratches of her broom's bristles against the floor.
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"I lose every single day."
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From where they were standing, the three addressed freshmen saw nothing but Echizen's small solitary figure against the dimming blue of the sky. They heard nothing but Echizen's distinctively damning reply.
"..Eh?"
No one acknowledged the pitiful sound choked from between one of their lips. His own perhaps? There was a profound meaning echoed within that single sentence that no one wished to feel. One that implied intimate acquaintance with loss and no comprehension of victory.
"Haha..," Kachiro weakly waved off the unease. "Stop joking. You want to become a professional player right?"
Wrinkling her brows, Ryoma continued to pull the debris towards the growing pile of soot. What? She sensed a sudden shift in topic, but it was too subtle to be sure. Slanting her eyes, she glanced at the three from beneath her cap.
Oh.
She returned her eyes to her path towards the pile. Though her classmates were looking straight at her, the shift in topic was the equivalent to the way one shifted their eyes upon confronting a handicapped person. Their continued gaze was the equivalent to the way one brazenly stared at the aftermath of a car accident. To both the victim and the perpetrator of what they deem a spectacle, there is no subtlety in their discomfort and morbid curiosity.
There was a bitter taste in her mouth as Ryoma contemplated whether they believed her to be the former or the latter in their car accident. Scornfully, she replied, "Uninterested."
Eyes wide, all three cried together, "How come?" Their exclamations this time around demanded an answer from the boy in front of them. But while Kachiro and Katsuo appeared disappointed and perplexed, Horio was flushed with anger and indignation.
With a soft sigh, Ryoma wondered, not for the first time, if there really was a need to interact with people like Nanjiro and Ryuzaki-sensei kept insisting. Having finished sweeping, she returned the broom and turned to leave, harsh golden eyes haunting her every step.
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"There is a guy I need to defeat in tennis."
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But can you really defeat those who've already accepted loss themselves?
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Seigaku Ranking Tournament – Group D – Day 1
Kaido Kaoru: 2 wins, 1 loss (2 games left) │ Echizen Ryoma: 3 wins (2 games left) │ Inui Sadaharu: 2 wins (3 games left)
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End Genius 011
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Notes:
* "-nii" is the shortened suffix/honorific for "older brother."
* "Omamori" is a type of charm that has been blessed by someone at a shrine. They're usually little slips of paper wrapped in silk or cloth. Bells are also sometimes used, believed to have certain properties. There are charms for nearly everything you can think of, from safe driving to safe birth. It's generally meant for protection and good luck.
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A/N: Sorry for the late update! I was pretty sick and as a result, got behind schedule in my other responsibilities, leaving me with no time to update. I'd like to say I'll update more or even just regularly from now, but I'm still pretty much swamped in work so the most I can promise is to do my best and to write whenever I can and update as soon as possible. Please be patient and lend me your support! There is still so much I want to do with this fanfic!
This was a really difficult chapter to write because there was so much I wanted to put in it, but was unsure of how to go about it. In the end, it turned out like this, but I'm not quite sure I'm satisfied with it.
Please do review. I love hearing from everyone and in fact, everyone's been helping me to improve this fanfic each time they give me some advice or input. As you can probably already see, I take everyone seriously. I smile each time I get another review from someone I've already heard from and the reviewers who've been constantly supporting me are those I treasure the most, so thank you! It is you who I'm most anxious to update for and most worried of disappointing. I hope I continue to meet your expectations!
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Genius 011: Extra
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"Ryoma! How about some exercise before dinner? I'll go easy on you by using only one of my legs. How about it?"
Ryoma eyed the cigarette between Nanjiro's lips.
He was biting the ends again.
Sighing, she set Karupin gently on the floor and turned to retrieve her racket. Really. She paused to look at the room she was in. What a mess they were without Ryo-nii. Reaching for the doorknob, the girl yelled behind her back, "You don't need to go easy on me!"
Exiting the room, Ryoma ignored the soft chime of a faded omamori* still resting on the door handle. Softly, she whispered, "What an annoying father."